


Autopilot

by peculiva



Series: Leather cord [1]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, Can be read as platonic or more, M/M, The Death Cure, The Flare, movie!verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 05:25:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14687403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peculiva/pseuds/peculiva
Summary: Thomas and his last hour with Newt.Warning: This is literally all Angst, from beginning to end.





	Autopilot

**Author's Note:**

> This popped into my head last night and I had to get it out.
> 
> I'm sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the books or the movies, I just love James Dashner for creating these characters.

Cold hits his skin the moment he tears off his jacket, discards it without a second glance.  
It's a relief, the cool breeze sweeping over his sweat-slicked skin, sticky with adrenaline and stress. Though Thomas barely registers the change of temperature.

He says something to Minho about _Brenda_ and _will be okay_ and _serum_ , a string of words that flows out of him without really thinking about it. He's running on autopilot.  
He thought his mind had gone into overdrive when he escaped the horror Cranks with Brenda in the Scorch, when he ran the maze with Minho. When they escaped the bullets at the wall and when they stole a car right off a moving train.  
But compared to his current state of mind all of that was cake.

There are only a few things in his head right now, each of them blinking and howling like a siren and at the same time it's eerily quiet in his brain.  
Usually he's constantly thinking about everything that could go wrong, each possible scenario playing out in his head without him even realizing it, searching for the best option.  
But now it's quiet because there is no variety of options. Only one.

Brenda. Tunnels. Avoid bullets. Minho. Gally. Serum. Screeching in his head, demanding for attention.

But Thomas's mind is occupied.  
He dodges Minho and Gally.

Newt tries to stand up. Thomas has to catch him the second he puts pressure on his left leg and it simply gives out, arms slinging around his torso from behind. Thomas pulls him up. Mumbles soothing words.  
He can feel Newt's ribs even under his stolen WCKD uniform, Newt's thrown up everything he ate during the last couple days. Thomas swallows and allows himself one blink. One short moment of squeezing his eyes shut and trying to get air in his collapsing lungs because there is no fucking strength in Newt as Thomas pulls Newt's arm over his shoulder. His grip is too tight but he doesn't care.  
Newt helps even though he can't and soon Minho is on the other side, takes Newt's other arm, places it around his neck and they run behind Gally through dark streets and lit alleys.

 

They're descending a set of stairs when the radio attached to his thigh suddenly crackles and they have to set Newt down. Minho stays with him. Thomas steps away from them to take the call, he can't concentrate.

Brenda wants to know where they are and he tells her that they got Minho and they're on their way.  
He looks behind him and immediately turns back around.

Newt's panting, frantically trying to get the zipper of his jacket down. He's been doing that for a while but his hands are too jittery. He's gasping for air, a panicked look on his face.  
Newt can't breathe and Thomas turns away.

"Brenda, Newt's not doing so good."  
Understatement of the year. It tastes bitter.

She assures him that she's got the serum, tells him not to worry. Thomas almost laughs. A pathetic sound that gets stuck somewhere in his clogged up throat and doesn't come out.  
He hears Minho muttering something to Newt about how it's okay, tells him to "Hang in there." They keep saying it and Thomas wonders whether Newt takes comfort from the words or just wants them to shut up.

According to Brenda, Lawrence is gone and with him his whole group and their supplies. Gally is confused, alarmed even.

Newt is hunched over, head dropped forward, wet hair hanging down, damp from a mix of water and sweat. Not different from Thomas's own.  
They have a chance.

"You need to get the hell out of there. Now." Brenda says and Thomas agrees. Lawrence gone probably means a plan that he didn't tell Thomas and his friends about. The Last City is a ticking time bomb.

Now they have two of those.  
Thomas forces down the bile rising in his throat at that thought.

He tells Brenda to have the serum ready and then he's heading back to Minho and Newt still seated on the stairs.  
Minho has clasped Newt's right arm, holding him up. Newt's gripping something around his neck and he raises his head as Thomas approaches.  
His eyes are unfocused, whether from lack of oxygen or the Flare eating him alive, Thomas doesn't know.

He takes Newt's other arm and they move.

Autopilot.

 

The bang causes all four of them to duck down and just like that there is a huge hole in the wall.  
Gally sounds like he can't believe what his friends are up to. "They're supposed to take down WCKD not the whole damn city."  
So that was Lawrence's plan.  
Honestly, Thomas couldn't give less of a shit right now.  
Minho. Brenda. Avoid bullets. Gally. Tunnels. Serum.

A ghostly white figure with dark shadows under bloodshot eyes beside him, breathing even more heavily than Minho and himself. Dark spider webs spread over pale skin. They're growing.

Autopilot.

 

They continue their way through the city, Gally marching ahead, launcher raised, ready to shoot. Minho and Thomas trailing behind with Newt between them and Thomas clutching his left hand. Newt is limping along, trying to make it easier for his friends.

Autopilot.

 

Gally curses at the sight of the street barrier formed by WCKD cars. "Stay low!" He hisses and they do, hide behind a large plant tub, mere yards away from the vehicles. They help Newt down to the ground and Thomas tells himself he doesn't notice how Newt slides even lower as soon as he lets go of him.

Autopilot.

Thomas scoots around the tub to get a look at the scene behind it and barely avoids getting spotted by an SUV that stops right in front of the tub. Cursing he crawls back.  
He hears soldiers positioning themselves, barking orders at each other.  
So this is it?

It's not.  
"What are they waiting for?" Minho's whispered question is barely out of his mouth when the world behind Thomas explodes. He whips around and watches as crowds of people from outside barrel through the street right into the barrier.

The fire starts.

Through the barrage of gunshots and grenades Thomas is vaguely aware of his hand pushing Newt to the ground and his voice yelling at him to "Stay down! Stay down!"

Gally says that they gotta go and Thomas agrees.

Together with Minho he hoists Newt up and they go on.

Autopilot.

 

The world is drowning in fire. They march through crumbling streets, dodging bullets, hiding behind everything they can. Gally shoots Cranks with his launcher, a whole bunch of them.  
It's not enough.

No matter how well they hide, the tunnels are blocked, a raging war in the way. They won't get out of the city.

Gally leads them to a secluded area surrounded by buildings that still stand. Thomas sits down a little bit remote of the others. He can't look at Newt.  
They're all going to die tonight but he can't look at Newt.

"We're not gonna make it" he speaks into the radio. He's panting. He does look at Newt. Minho is holding him.  
Brenda asks him what he's talking about.  
Newt's chest is heaving worse than Thomas's own.

"Just take the others and get out while you still can." He means it and Brenda refuses.  
He insists and she says she won't leave them.

"Even though you should?"

Brenda stays quiet and Thomas waits.

Newt's head lolls back against the wall behind him and his eyes fall shut. Minho hovers beside him and Thomas gets why he's staring at Newt's shoulder and not at his face.

Gally. Minho. Newt. Death. That's what it has come down to in his head.

He's calm, because it's over.

Only that it's not. He is about to say his final goodbye into the radio when it comes to life and he hears Brenda's slightly distorted voice telling him that their ride is there. The Berg.

Minho. Brenda. Gally. Avoiding bullets. Getting to the Berg. Serum.

Newt.

The autopilot is back on.

"Just wait for us near the tunnels." Thomas lowers his hand holding the radio. They can't go through the tunnels but they can try to get near them.

They have a chance.

Newt looks at him like doesn't want to go on anymore.

Autopilot.

 

Gally goes ahead again, guiding them through a city in flames. He raises a hand to stop them when bullets fly and waves at them to follow where the gunfire pauses for a minute, and Thomas thinks that if he survives this, he may be able to forgive Gally one day.

The muscles in his back scream for a break. Minho and Thomas are practically dragging Newt by now. His head hangs to the side, swinging with every step. He's barely conscious.

"Alright, Newt we're almost there!" Gally's words are meant to encourage.

Newt tells them to leave him. He's given up.

But Thomas hasn't and neither have Gally and Minho.

A car explodes right in front of them and Gally shouts at them to get back. Screaming people pass and explosions hit. Newt is propped against the railing that severs as their hiding spot, half-sitting half-laying. His breathing is more shallow, his chest no longer has the power to rise and fall with force even though there is not enough air for Newt. Thomas swallows down his panic.

There is a rumbling sound above them and as Thomas raises his head he sees a Berg flying over them, whirring propellers cutting through the air, sending new faith right into his bones. Their ride, as Brenda called it.

He rises to his feet to see in what area the Berg will land and the strength suddenly running through his body must be a last shot of adrenaline fueled by nothing but hope.

But when be crouches down to help his best friend to his feet Newt coughs and pukes black bile. When he leans up again he's back to panting with strength he doesn't have, slight whimpers slipping out of him. His eyes are moving, looking at the ground and then at his friends. Thomas can tell Newt is scared to death. Desperate.  
For air. For no more pain. For sanity.

Thomas makes a decision.  
"Minho. You gotta run ahead, grab the serum, get back to us as soon as you can."  
Minho looks at him like Thomas is the one who's losing his mind and maybe he is too, because Newt is choking on air right in front of him.  
Gally says Thomas is right and offers cover for Minho.  
Minho gets up to go but Newt grabs his wrist and holds him back.

"Thank you." It's barely more than a whisper. "Thank you, Minho." And Thomas knows it's for more than Minho going to get the serum. A serum that won't even help Newt for long. It's just time but it's better than nothing and Thomas is going to find a permanent cure. He will.

Minho's voice is insistent. "Just hang on. You hear me?"  
Newt is nodding but his gaze is distant, looking rather through Minho than right at him. Thomas swallows down his panic.

Gally and Minho run into the street, Gally holding his launcher up to defend them. Thomas and Newt both watch them leave and Thomas looks over the railing till they disappear between the flames.  
When he ducks back down to get Newt to his feet Newt is gritting his teeth, snarling, empty eyes almost all black instead of the familiar brown.

Thomas shakes him. Yells at him until Newt comes back from wherever he went to and snaps into focus.  
He tries to hold Newt's gaze as he tells him they're going to get him up but Newt's eyes are all over the place and it feels like they're searching for something, _anything_ , to hold on to but can't.  
Thomas grips the hem of his jacket but Newt holds him back, fumbling with something around his neck. They don't have time for this and Thomas tries to get his attention but Newt is pulling at the thing dangling from his neck, groaning in frustration until to he finally tears it off.  
They're yelling at each other, Thomas about how they gotta go and Newt for Thomas to take the thing he ripped off his neck. He's holding it up but Thomas doesn't look at it and shouts until Newt explodes and screams at him to just " _Take it!_ " He doesn't go on after that, just gasps for air more desperate than ever but he's looking straight at Thomas, fully there and focused.

  
This is important.

  
So Thomas grabs the cord hanging from Newt's hand. Newt curls his fingers around Thomas's own, grabs his wrist. Both of Newt's hand grip tightly at his arm, hold on to him.

"Please."  
Thomas locks eyes with Newt.  
"Please, Tommy. Please." Newt's voice breaks at the end.

No autopilot.

 

Thomas looks at his best friend and for a moment he doesn't see the darkened teeth and black liquid coming out of his mouth, running down his chin. Doesn't see the almost red of Newt's irises around wide pupils and doesn't see the dark veins in his cheeks, his forehead, chin, neck, everywhere.

 

He sees Newt's smile and the tilt of his head as he tells Thomas that for a second he had thought Thomas would have the chops to be a runner.  
"Until you face planted."

He hears Newt's drunken laugh as Thomas spews Gally's moonshine everywhere.

He remembers the first time Newt called him Tommy. They had been running from Cranks and getting a nickname had been about the last thing Thomas expected but it stuck. Not always, but every now and then he was Tommy.

He feels Newt's hand on his shoulder, a bit remote of the campfire in the Scorch.

Newt refusing to let Thomas go alone on a suicide mission, him and Frypan ready to come along without a second thought.

"Alright, I get shotgun."

Newt's story. All optimistic on the outside but actually broken on the inside.

"Great, we're all bloody inspired."

 

  
Newt is staring at him with pleading eyes.

  
"Okay." Thomas's voice is a whisper and he takes the cord Newt wants him to have, puts it in his pocket.  
Newt slumps down.

He looks so _helpless_.

Autopilot.

"Alright. Newt, just give me everything you got." He's slurring, not sure what other words fall out.

Newt whimpers and then he groans in pain as Thomas heaves him up, arm slung around Thomas's neck.

They go on, through fire and bullets and bombs. Newt's limp gets worse by the second, his bad leg useless between them, foot scraping over cracked concrete, head hanging low, free arm limp at his side.  
Thomas's right arm is slung around Newt's waist, ribs under his fingers. He drags.

Newt's slowly sliding down his side like a dead weight. The sounds coming out of his mouth don't sound completely human anymore.

Autopilot.

"Almost there Newt, stay with me."

Newt crumples to the ground and lands on his back. His eyes are open but he's not there.  
Thomas shakes him, grips his shirt, puts an ear on his chest. The noises make it clear. Newt doesn't have air.

Thomas changes his strategy. He slings both his arms under Newt's armpits and pulls. He roars, trying to find the power in his muscles that he needs but doesn't have.  
He collapses to the ground with Newt on top of him.

 

And then there is Teresa's voice over the speakers that must be scattered over the whole city.

He listens.

She wants him to come back. She says she has a cure, that Thomas is the cure. She says Newt has a chance.

Thomas turns around to Newt. He looks dead.

Teresa continues her speech and Thomas looks back up at he voice coming from everywhere around him.  
She's cut off when electricity switches to emergency power. But Thomas has made his mind up anyway.

When he turns around to grab Newt Thomas finds him rising to his feet. Newt has his back to him, his stance is lopsided, tilted to the right.

Thomas swallows down his panic.

 

"Newt?"

Newt turns around but it's not him.

They stare at each other. "Newt."

 

Thomas barely dodges the creature that looks like his best friend. Newt wastes no time and attacks again, this time catching him straight in the middle, knocking the air out of Thomas.  
They roll over the ground and it makes his head spin. Scratches on his skin, growling in his ears, dark liquid hitting his face.  
Thomas manages to shove Newt off him, staring wide-eyed at his best friend who's hovering on all fours, a string of black spit hanging from his lips.

"Tommy! Kill me!"

Thomas takes a step forward but before he knows it the Flare has taken over again and he's knocked back to the ground, Newt scrambling on top of him, thrashing and biting, one arm cutting off Thomas's airway until he somehow pulls it away.  
Newt slows down. He's back to panting instead of emitting animalistic shrieks. He's himself again. He stares at his hands that Thomas has trapped in a tight grip, looks at Thomas with confused eyes.

"I'm sorry Tom-. I'm sorry Tommy."

Thomas nearly sobs.

 

"It's okay. It's okay."

Because it is.

 

But then it's not because Newt grabs the gun strapped to Thomas's thigh and holds it up to his own temple.

Thomas doesn't register his arm moving but the gun clatters to the floor and slides out of reach. Newt roars at him, furious because Thomas doesn't let him end it. He snaps and flails and Thomas feels his arms giving out.  
He doesn't give up.

_"You can't give up. I won't let you."_

Thomas shoves Newt off him. Newt crashes down but immediately rises back up to his knees.

Thomas watches him cautiously. He knows Newt is still in there somewhere, trying to get the upper hand.  
Thomas almost gets his throat slit as Newt swings a knife. He jumps back and feels bits of debris digging into his back. Newt is on him in an instant, jamming down the knife. Thomas stops him right before it hits his chest.  
He's pushing up and Newt is pushing down and the Flare is stronger.

Thomas screams as the blade cuts into his flesh and he feels warmth running over his skin.

Autopilot.

 

His knee finds Newt's back and he kicks Newt off him, punches him in the jaw before he can get back up. Gasping for air he stands up. He's dizzy and he doesn't know what to do when Newt rises to his feet again, except step back.  
Newt's thrashing limbs follow him, the knife almost stabbing him at every hit. Thomas stumbles back, Newt comes closer.

And then they're hugging. Thomas's hand is on Newt's shoulder and he can feel Newt's fingers grasping his own. A strangled noise escapes Newt's throat and Thomas lets fear win because there is no knife in his torso.  
The blade is buried deep in Newt's chest, his hand still curled around it, only slipping away as Thomas steps back to look at this thing between them. This knife that is not supposed to be there.

Newt's last word is "Tommy" and it feels like he wants to say more but his eyes roll back and he collapses. Thomas catches him.

  
But this time he doesn't pull him up.

 

Thomas is running on autopilot. And he's afraid that he will never be able to stop.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Uhm, yeah that's it. 
> 
> I would appreciate your comments, ramble, compliment or yell at me, I'm happy about any kind of feedback. <3


End file.
